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THE   CANTERBURY    PILGRIMS 
AN  OPERA 


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THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

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THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 


AN   OPERA 


THE  TEXT 

BY 

PERCY    MACKAYE 

THE  MUSIC 

BY 

REGINALD  DE  KOVEN 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 
1916 

AH  rights   raernjed 


COPVMCHT,    1903, 

Bv  THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Copyright,  1915, 
By  PERCY   MACKAYE. 

COPYKIGHT,    I916, 

By  PERCY  MACKAYE. 


This  published  text  of  The  Canterbury  Pilgrims  is  the  property  of  Percy 
MacKaye  and  The  Macmillan  Company,  owners  of  the  international  copy- 
right of  the  text. 

The  opera.  The  Canterbury  Pilgrims,  by  Percy  MacKaye  and  Reginald 
de  Koven,  is  the  copyright  property  of  The  John  Church  Company. 

The  right  publicly  to  perform  this  opera,  in  whole  or  in  part,  and  the  right 
to  use  the  same,  in  whole  or  in  part,  for  motion  picture  purposes,  is  reserved 
by  the  owner  of  the  copyright. 

No  public  reading  of  this  text  may  be  given  without  the  written  pennissioa 
of  the  author,  and  the  payment  of  royally. 

The  author  should  be  addressaid  in  care  of  (be',  publishers. 


NoTtDooU  Prtss 

J.  S.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

This  work,  which  is  an  operatic  version  of  my  text 
"  The  Canterbury  Pilgrims  "  (pubUshed  in  1903),  was  put 
into  its  present  form  by  me  in  the  late  spring  and  early 
summer  of  1914.  During  the  same  summer  Mr.  Regi- 
nald de  Koven  began  to  compose  his  music  for  it  at 
\'evey,  Switzerland,  where  all  of  the  music  was  composed 
by  him  and  completed,  together  with  the  orchestration, 
in  the  autumn  of  the  following  year. 

In  the  spring  of  19 16  the  opera  was  accepted  for  pro- 
duction at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House.  New  York, 
where  its  first  performance  has  been  announced  to  take 
place  during  the  season  of  1916-17. 

]  PERCY  MACKAYE. 


Cornish.  N.  H., 
October,  191 6. 


35798S 


1 


Alisoun's  Swains. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS 

MEN 

Geoffrey  Chaucer,  First  Poet  Laureate  of  England. 

Knight. 

Squire,  his  Son. 

Friar, 

Miller, 

Cook, 

Shipman, 

summoner, 

Pardoner, 

Host. 

Man  of  Law. 

Joannes,  the  Prioress'  Servitor. 

Richard  II,  King  of  England. 

WOMEN 

The  Wife  of  Bath  {AHsoun). 
The  Prioress  {Madame  Eglantine). 
Johanna. 

CHORUS 

Pilgrims,  Nobles,  Choir-boys,  Priests,  Prelates,  Nuns,  Brooch-girls,  Serving- 
maids,  etc. 

SCENES 

ACT   FIRST:        The  Tabard  Inn,  at  Southwark,  near  London. 
Time:  April  i6,  1387.     Late  afternoon. 

ACT    SECOND :  Garden  of  the  One  Nine-Pin  Inn,  at  the  litde  hamlet  of 
Bob-up-and-down,  en  route  to  Canterbury. 
Time:  April  19.     The  afternoon. 

ACT   THIRD  :      The  hall  of  the  One  Nine-Pin  Inn. 
Time  :  Evening  of  the  same  day. 

ACT  FOURTH  :  Before  the  west  Front  of  Canterbury  Cathedral. 
Time  :  The  next  day. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

AN   OPERA 

ACT  FIRST 

Scene:   The  Tabard  Inn  at  Southwark,  near  London. 

When  the  scene  opens,  Pilgrims  are  discovered  thronging 
the  court  of  the  inn,  seated  at  tables  drinking,  or  standing 
by  the  ale-barrels  flirting  with  the  tap-maids. 

Among  them  are  the  Miller,  Frla.r,  Parson,  Plough- 
man, Franklin,  Doctor,  Haberdasher,  Carpenter, 
Weaver,  Dyer,  Tapicer,  and  Clerk.  The  Knight, 
Squire,  Yeoman,  and  others  enter  soon  after,  as  from 
horseback. 

At  rise  of  the  curtain,  the  Miller  is  raising  his  tankard,  and 
leading  the  others  in  chorus. 

Oslo.  Oh,  good  ale  under  the  gable 

Wlien  the  year  is  young  and  green, 
And  a  tankard  over  the  table  — 
Is  mirth  for  king  and  queen  ! 

Then  its  whoa  !  whoa  ! 
Stirrup  go  jingle,  spur  go  clink : 

Whoa !  whoa ! 
Come  in,  lads !     Come  drink  ! 
Tap-maid,  here  !     Come  tipple  your  man 
With  a  kiss  on  the  curve  of  his  can,  can,  can ! 


2  THE   CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

[Enter  Chaucer,  reading  in  a  great  volume.] 

Mil.   Ho,  here's  our  vintner,  ogling  on  a  book ! 
Chau.    [Looks  up,  smiling.]     A  book's  a  mistress  all  the 
world  may  love 
And  none  be  jilted. 
Friar.    [Poking  his  nose  in  the  hook.]    What's  the  psalm 

you  read? 
Chau.    [Pointing  at  the  page.]    To  Hve  a  king  with  kings, 
a  clod  with  clods. 
To  be  at  heart  a  bird  of  every  feather, 
A  fellow  of  the  finch  as  well  as  the  lark. 
The  equal  of  each,  brother  of  every  man  — 

[He  claps  the  cover  shut,  a7td  laughs  at  the  Friar.] 
That  is  my  psalm  and  rosary,  sweet  Friar  ! 
Mil.    [Gruntingly .]     Is //za/ thy  song ? 
Chau.    [Lifting  a  tankard.]     Good  ale,  and  pilgrimage  ! 

[He  sings,  as  the  others  join  in  the  chorus.] 

Ah,  God-speed  under  the  rafter 

Where  the  road  leads  forth  to  Spring, 

With  a  lass  to  quicken  the  laughter  — 
Is  royal  wayfaring ! 

Cho.  Then  it's  whoa  !  whoa  ! 

Sorrow  go  whistle,  care  go  wink : 

Whoa !  whoa ! 
Come  in,  lads  !     Come  drink ! 
Here,  tap-lassie  !    Wheedle  your  man 
With  a  kiss  on  the  curve  of  his  can,  can,  can  ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  3 

[At  the  conclusion  of  the  chorus,  the  Pilgrims  hreak 
into  groups,    converse    laughingly,    and    drink. 
The    Knight,  with   the     Squire,     approaches 
Chaucer,  and  greets  him  courteously.] 
Knight.   I  am  returning  from  the  Holy  Land 
And  go  to  pay  my  vows  at  Canterbury. 
This  is  my  son. 
Chau.  Go  you  to  Canterbury 

As  well,  Sir  Squire? 

[The  Squire,  turning  away  with  a  long-drawn  sigh, 
fingers  a  flute  in  his  hand.] 
Squire.  Ah,  me ! 

Knight.   [With  a  knowing  look  at  Chaucer.]    He  is  in  love  ! 
[As  the  Squire  plays  a  few  lovelorn  notes  on  his  flute, 
Chaucer  follows  with  a  twinkling  glance  and 
addresses  him  with  an  air  of  courtly  melancholy \ 
Chau.   My  dearest  heart  and  best  beloved  foe, 
Why  liketh  you  to  do  me  all  this  woe  ? 
What  have  I  done  that  grieveth  you,  or  said. 
Save  that  I  love  and  serve  you,  high  and  low  ? 
Squire.    [Staring  in  astonishment.]    Your  pardon,  sir ;  those 
verses  are  not  yours. 
Chaucer  —  our  poet  laureate  —  he  wrote  them. 

[He   turns   away   again,   hut   continues    to    watch 
Chaucer  with  curious  intentness.] 
Mil.    [To   the   Host.]    Ten   gallon    ale !     God's  arms !    I 

take  thee. 
Friar.  What's 

The  wager  ? 
Host.  Yonder  door ;  this  Miller  here 


4  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Shall  break  it,  at  a  running,  with  his  head. 
The  door  is  oak.     The  stakes  ten  gallon  ale. 
The  Voices  of  Nuns.   [Outside.]    Laudate,  pueri,  Domi- 

num  !     Laudate  nomen  Domini ! 
Host.    [Turning  toward  the  outer  door.]     WTio's  coming  now  ? 
Friar.    [Peering  forth  interestedly]     Grand  folk  :  a  Prioress  ! 
[r/^eHosT  bffws  low  to  greet  the  Prioress,  who  appears 
at  the  door  accompanied  by  a  bevy  of  Nuns  and  by 
Joannes,  a  priest,  who  carries  a  little  pup  in  his 
arms.] 
Host.   Welcome,  my  lady  dear !    Vouchsafe  to  enter 

Poor  Herry  Bailey's  Tabard  Inn. 
Pri.   [Ignoring  him,  speaks  to  the  Priest.]     WTiere  is  my 

little  hound  ? 
Joan.  'Tis  here,  my  lady. 

Pri.   Pray  carry  him  before,  and  carefully. 

[Joannes  goes  toward  the  door,  left,  which  the  Miller 
is  preparing  to  ram  with  his  head.] 
Friar.   The  door  is  locked. 

Joan.  But,  sir,  the  Prioress  — 

Mil.   Heigh !     Clear  the  way  ! 

[With  clenched  fists,  and  head  doubled  over,  the  Mil- 
ler runs  for  the  door.     The  Pilgrims  watch  and 
shout.] 
Pilgrims.  Harroo  !    Run,  Robin  !    Ho  ! 

\With  a  crash,  the  Miller's  head  strikes  the  door 
and  splits  it.     At  the  shock,  he  rebounds  against 
Joannes  and,  reaching  to  save  himself  from  falling, 
seizes  the  puppy.] 
Mil.   a  twenty  devils  damn  him  ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  5 

Friar.  Soft !    What  ails  thee  ? 

Mil.   The  priest  hath  bit  my  hand. 

Joan.  Sweet  sir,  the  puppy  — 

It  was  the  puppy,  sir ! 
Mil.  Wring  me  its  neck ! 

Pri.   Help-o  !  Alas  !    St.  Loy !     Will  no  one  help  ? 
Chau.   Madame,  what  may  I  do  ? 
Pri.  My  Uttle  hound  — 

The  churl  —  My  little  hound  —  The  churl  will  hurt  it. 

If  you  would  fetch  to  me  my  Uttle  hound  — 
Chau.   Madame,  I'd  fetch  you  Cerberus  from  Hell. 
Mil.   Lo,  masters  !     See  a  dog's  neck  wrung  ! 
Chau.    [Breaking  through  the  crowd,  seizes  the  Miller  hy  the 
throat.]  Which  dog's? 

Mil.   Leave    go!  —  'Sblood!    Take    the   whelp,    a   devil's 

name ! 
Chau.   Kneel !    Ask  grace  of  this  lady  here. 
Mil.    [Sullenly.]  What  lady? 

Chau.   Of  her  whom  gentles  call  St.  Charity 

In  every  place  and  time.  — 
Mil.    [Kneels,  morosely]  Lady,  I  axe  your  pardon. 

Chau.   Madame,  your  little  hound  is  safe. 
Pri.    [Nestles  the  little  hound  with  tender  effusiveness ;   then 
turns  shyly  to  Chaucer.]  Merci ! 

My  name  is  Madame  Eglantine.     [She  hurries  out,  left.] 
Chau.   [To  himself.]  Hold,  Geoffrey ! 

Why  beats  thy  heart  to  help  a  httle  hound  ?  — 

Ah,  Madame  Eglantine,  unless  ye  be 

To  me,  as  well  as  him,  St.  Charity ! 
Squire.   Father  !    My  lord ! 


6  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Knight.  Well,  son? 

Squire.   [Looking  at  Chaucer.]  Sir,  saw  you  ever 

So  knightly,  sweet  and  sovereign  a  man  ? 
Sir,  have  you  guessed  who  'tis  ? 
Knight.  To  judge  him  by  his  speech  — 

Some  valiant  officer. 
Squire.  Nay,  /  have  guessed ! 

[Outside  is  heard  the  distant  voice  of  the  Wife  of  Bath 
— Alisoun — joined  in  chorus  by  the  Pardoner, 
Shipman,  and  Summoner.] 

Alis. 

When  folk  o'  Faerie 
Are  laughing  in  the  laund. 
And  the  nix  pipes  low  in  the  miller's  pond, 
Come  hither,  love,  to  me  ! 
Cho.  With  doe  and  with  dove, 

Come  back  to  your  love ; 
Come  hither,  love,  to  me  ! 

Host.   [At  the  door,  to  Friar.]    Hist!    Who's  yon  jolly 
Nancy  riding  here, 

With  them  three  tapsters  tooting  up  behind  ? 
Friar.   [Staring.]    By  sweet  St.  Cuthbert ! 
Host.  Ha !    Ye  ken  the  wench. 

Friar.  The  wench?    Oho!    List,  sir:    Thy  wench  hath 
been 

A  five  times  wedded  and  five  hundred  wooed ; 

Hath  rode  alone  to  sweet  Jerusalem 

And  back  more  oft  than  Dick-the-Lion's-Heart. 

She  was  not  born  a-yesterday ;  yet,  by 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  7 

The  merry  mass,  when  she  comes  in  the  door, 
She  maketh  sweet-sixteen  as  stale  as  dough. 
Host.   She  looks  a  jolly  Malkin.     What's  her  name  ? 
Friar.   Dame  Alisoun,  a  cloth-maker  of  Bath. 

[Outside  the  song  "Come  hither,  love,"  bursts  into 

chorus. 
Enter  Alisoun,  the  Wife  of  Bath,  astride  a  small 
white  ass,  which  is  fancifully  caparisoned  like  a 
fairy  creature.  Spurs  jingle  on  the  Wife's  boots, 
and  on  her  head  is  a  great  round  hat.  Followed 
by  the  Summoner,  Pardoner,  and  Shipman,  she 
rides  into  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  reins  up.] 
Alis.   Whoa-oop !  —  God  save  this  merry  company ! 

[A  commotion.] 
By  God,  I  ween  ye  ken  not  what  I  am : 
I  am  the  jolly  Elf-Queen,  and  this  is 
My  milk-white  doe,  whereon  I  ride  as  light 
As  Robin  Good-Boy  on  a  bumble-bee. 
[Indicating  the  ass's  ears.]     These  be  his  wings.  —  And 

lo  my  retinue ! 
These  here  be  choir-boys  from  Fairyland ! 
Come,  Pardoner,  toot  up  my  praise  anon. 
Pard.  &  Alis.  [Together.] 

When  sap  runs  in  the  tree. 
And  the  huntsman  sings  "Halloo!" 
And  the  greenwood  saith:    "Peewit!     Cuckoo!" 
Come  hither,  love,  to  me  ! 
With  turtle  and  plover, 
Come  back  to  your  lover ; 
Come  hither,  love,  to  me  ! 


8  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Alis.   Now,  lads,  the  chorus  ! 

[The  Swains  and  Alisoun,  joined  by  other  Pil- 
grims, repeat  the  refrain  in  chorus. 
Re-enter  Chaucer  and  Joannes.     Chaucer  carries 

in  his  hand  a  crock. 
The  Miller  and  others  of  the  Swains  ofer  Alisoun 
their  tankards  of  ale;    hut,  spying  Chaucer, 
Alisoun  waves  them  back.] 
Alis.   Nay,  Robin,  Huberd,  back !    Ye  are  too  late, 
All  o'  ye  !    The  Elf -Queen  spies  her  Oberon ! 

[Wheeling  the  ass  to  confront  Chaucer.] 
By  God,  sir,  you're  the  figure  of  a  man 
For  me  !  —  Give  me  thy  name. 
Chau.   [Momentarily   taken   aback.]     My  name,  your  Maj- 
esty? 
Alis.   Make  it  a  swap,  man.     Mine  is  Alisoun, 
And  lads  they  ken  me  as  the  Wife  of  Bath. 
Chau.   My  name  is  Geoffrey.     When  the  moon  is  full, 

I  am  an  elf,  and  skip  upon  the  green. 
Squire.    [To  the  Knight.]     Father,  'tis  he :   the  poet  laure- 
ate ! 
Ship.    [OJ'ering  his  tankard.]    Take  this,  old  girl ! 
Alis.  The  devil  take  a  tar ! 

[Snatches  the  crock  from  Chaucer's  hand.] 
I'll  take  a  swig  from  Geoffrey's.     Holy  Virgin  ! 
What  pap  is  this  here  ?     Milk  and  wastel-bread  ? 
Chau.   Nay,  'tis  a  kind  of  brew  concocted  from 

The  Milky  Way,  to  nurse  unmarried  maids. 
Alis.    [Hands  it  back  quickly.]     Saints !     None  o'  that  for 
me ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  g 

Chau.   [Giving  it  to  Joannes.]    Bear  it  to  your  mistress. 
Alis.    [Winking    at    the    Swains.]     Mistress  !  —  Aha  !     A 
woman  in  the  case  ! 

[To  Chaucer.]     Give  us  your  hand,  Sir  Elf  of  the  Full- 
Moon, 

And  help  me  light  adown.  —  What !    Are  ye  afeard 

To  take  me  in  your  arms  ? 
Chau.  Fair  Alisoun, 

Thou  art  a  vision  of  the  ruddy  Venus 

Bright  pommeled  on  the  unspotted  Pegasus, 

And  I  am  Ganymede,  thy  stable-boy  ! 

[He  helps  her  to  alight.] 
Alis.   Well  swung !    What  think  ye  of  my  jolly  heft  ? 
Chau.   Thou  art  a  very  dandelion  seed 

And  I  thy  zephyr. 
Mil.   [To  the  Swains.]     'Sblood  !    He  steals  our  wench. 
Squire.   [Approaching   Chaucer    diffidently,   speaks   low.] 

Great  Master  Chaucer ! 
Chau.  Hush  !    Speak  not  my  name. 

I  travel  here  incognito. 

[He  takes  the  Squire  aside.] 
Alis.   Halloa !    What's  struck  this  jolly  company  ? 

Ye're  flat  as  stale  ale.     Master  Summoner,  what's 

The  matter  now  ? 
Sum.   Was  it  for  this  I  sang  "  Come  hither,  love  "  ? 
Mil.   Aye,  was  it  for  this  ?  —  A  milksop  of  a  man  ! 
Alis.    Geoffrey,  ye  mean?    Ho  !    Are  ye  jealous  there? 

Hark,  lads:   Myself  have  made  a  vow  'twixt  here 

And  Holy  Thomas'  shrine  to  twig  a  husband ; 

But  if  I  hke  this  fellow  Geoffrey,  can't 


lO  TEE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

I  like  ye  all  ?    By  God,  give  me  your  fists ; 
Here's  pot-luck  to  ye  all,  lads.     Fetch  some  ale  ! 

[As  they  scramble  to  get  ale,  Alisoun  turns  to  Chau- 
cer, who  is    examining   sofne  holy   relics   shown 
him  by  the  Pardoner.    She  slaps  Chaucer  on 
the  shoulder.] 
Axis.   Now,   Geoffrey,    lad !     Which  will   ye    liever   kiss : 
A  dead  saint's  bones,  or  a  live  lass  —  her  lips? 

[Re-enter  the  Prioress.] 
Chau.   Why,  Alisoun,  I  say  all  flesh  is  grave  clothes. 
And  lips  the  flowers  that  blossom  o'er  our  bones ; 
God  planted  'em  to  bloom  in  laughter's  sunshine 
And  April  kissing- showers. 

[Laughing,   he   kisses   Alisoun   and   suddenly   sees   the 
Prioress.]     St.  Charity ! 
Alis.   Haha  !     That  time  I  had  thee  on  the  rump. 

[Laughing,  she  joins  the  Swains,  where  the  Friar 
talks  to  her.] 
Prioress.   [To  Chaucer,  shocked.]    And  you  a  gentilhomme 
—  at  least  I  thought  so 
Whenas  you  saved  my  Uttle  hound.  —  Ah,  sir  ! 
Chau.    [Penitently.]      I  will  absolve  me    at  St.  Thomas' 

shrine. 
Pri.    [Eagerly.]     Go  you  to  Canterbury? 
Chau.  With  the  rest. 

Pri.   Oh,  I  am  glad.  —  You  see, 

[At  a  sign  from  Alisoun,  the  Friar  listens  behind 
them,  unobserved.] 
I  go  to  meet  my  brother  on  the  road ; 
He  is  returning  from  the  Holy  Land ; 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  II 

I  am  to  meet  him  at  the  One  Nine-Pin, 

A  tavern  at  Bob-up-and-down.     But  — 
Chau.  But  ? 

Pri.   I  have  not  seen  him  since  I  was  a  child. 

I  have  forgotten  how  he  looks. 
Chau.    [Glancing  toward  the  Knight.]     He  is 

Returning  from  the  Holy  Land  ? 
Pri.  And  has 

His  son  with  him,  for  squire.     He  is  a  knight. 
Chau.   [Looking  harder  at  the  Knight    and   Squire.]    A 

son  —  his  squire  !     Good  Lord ! 
Pri.  And  so,  Monsieur, 

I  am  boldened  by  your  courtesy  to  ask 

Your  help  to  find  him  at  Bob-up-and-down ; 

Till  when  —  your  kind  protection  on  the  road. 
Chau.   Madame,  I  am  honored. 

But  how  am  I  to  recognize  your  brother  ? 
Pri.   He  wears  a  ring,  on  which  is  charactered 

The  letter  "A,"  and  after,  writ  in  Latin, 

The  same  inscription  as  is  fashioned  here 

Upon  my  brooch.     I  may  not  take  it  off, 

For  I  did  promise  him  to  wear  it  always. 

But  look,  sir,  here's  the  motto.     Can  you  read  it? 

[She  extends  her  hand,  from  the  bracelet  of  which 
dangles  a  brooch.     The  Friar  draws  nearer.] 
Chau.   I  thank  you.     [Reads.]     "Amor  vincit  omnia." 

[Looking  at  her.]     "Love  conquers  all." 
Pri.   \With  shy  embarrassment.] 

C'est  juste.  Monsieur.     Adieu! 
[She  goes  out  hastily.] 


12  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Friar.    [Making    of   to    Alisoun.]     Hist!     "Amor  vincit 
omnia."  —  Sweet  Alis  ! 
[After  talking  aside  with  Alisoun,  he  goes  to  the 
Knight.] 
Chau.   [To  himself  —  looking  at  the  Knight  and  Squire.] 

A  morning's  canter  to  Bob-up-and-down  ! 

''Till  when,  —  my  kind  protection  on  the  road." 

She  has  not  recognized  this  ELnight  and  Squire. 

When  last  they  met  she  was  a  little  child.  — 

A  morning's  canter  :  April  is  the  time  — 

Place,  Merry  England  !     Why  not  Lord  Protector 

Geoffrey?      Her    brother  —  why    should    he    protect 
her? 

Nay,  that  will  I,  for  "Amor  vincit  omnia !" 

[He  turns  to  get  his  hook.\ 
Friar.    [To   the   Knight,   whose  finger-ring   he   examines. \ 

Your  ring  —  how  quaint,  my  lord  ! 

A  crowned  "A"  and  underneath  a  motto. 
Knight.    [Stiffly.]    Quite  so. 
Friar.   Merci !     [He  returns  quickly  to  Alisoun.] 
Alis.  Her  brother  —  the  One  Nine-Pin  ? 

Friar.   Him  yonder ! 
Alis.  Good. 

Friar.  Sweet  Alisoun,  my  pay? 

Alis.   Hoot,  holy  brother  Huberd  !     Love's  reward 

Is  service. 

[Aside,  eyeing   Chaucer.]     Corpus  Venus !    What   a 
figure ! 

I'll  woo  him.     Aye  ;  but  first  to  rid  me  of 

These  other  fellows. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  13 

[Beckoning  the  Friar  and  the  other  Swains,  she 

whispers  to  them  and  they  go  out. 
She  then  comes  over  to  Chaucer,  who  sits  reading.] 

Ho,  candle  !     Come  out  from  under  thy  bushel. 
Chau.    [Peering  over  the  edge  of  his  book.\  Nay, 

'Tis  a  dark  world  to  shine  in.     I  will  read. 
Alis.   What  is't  about  ? 
Chau.  The  wickedness  of  woman. 

[Reads  aloud,  imperturbably.] 

"A  lovely  woman,  chaste,  is  like  a  rose ; 

Unchaste,  a  ring  of  gold  in  a  sow's  nose." 
Alis.   Lo,  what  a  pretty  preaching  pardoner ! 

Lo,  here's  bright  Alisoun,  the  Queen  o'  May, 

Blooms  like  a  lily  waiting  to  be  plucked, 

Yet  here  thou  blinkest  on  a  dusty  page ! 
Chau.    "Better  it  is  to  dwell  high  on  the  roof 

Than  down  i'  the  house  where  woman  wields  reproof." 

O,  what  a  list  of  ladies  !  What  a  world  ! 

Hark,  AHsoun  !  and  after  thou  hast  heard. 

Repent,  and  cease  to  be  a  woman.     Hark ! 

"  Who  first  obeyed  the  snake's  advice,  to  thieve 

The  apple  from  God's  Eden?  —  Mother  Eve." 
Alis.    [Tearing  a  page  out  of  the  book,  boxes  Chaucer  on  the 

cheek.]     A  devil  fetch  thy  drasty  book  ! 
Chau.  Hold,  hold ! 

Dame  Alis !  gentle  Alisoun  !     [He  recovers  the  torn  page.] 
Alis.   You    men !     God's    arms !    What   ken    ye    of    true 
women  ? 

You  stuff  a  doll  and  name  it  Modesty. 

By  corpus  bones !    Is  not  a  mare  a  horse  ? 


14  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

But  no  !    Ye  sanctify  a  squeamish  mule  ; 

And  when  an  honest  wench  that  speaks  her  mind, 

Meets  a  fine  lad,  and  says  out  plat:   "I  love  thee  — " 

She  is  a  sinner,  and  your  doll  a  saint. 
Chau.   Alls,  you  speak  like  one  in  jealousy. 
Alis.   Why,  Geoffrey,  so  I  am.    To  tell  thee  flat, 

I'm  jealous  of  thy  Lady  Prioress. 
Chau.   Peace,  dame.     Speak  not  her  name  with  mine. 
Alis.  Aye,  go  it: 

Miss  Innocence  and  Master  Modesty ! 

How's  that? 
Chau.   [With    tone  of    command.]     Dame    Alisoun,   it  is 

enough. 
Alis.   Why,  then,  it  is  enough.     Come,  lad ;  clap  hands. 

I  am  a  bud  of  old  experience 

Whom  frost  ne'er  yet  hath  nipped.     Therefore,  sweet 
Geoffrey, 

This  Prioress  wears  a  brooch  upon  her  wrist. 
Chau.   Well,  what  of  that  ? 
Alis.  Yea,  "  What  of  that  ?  "    Good  soul  I 

She  stops  this  journey  at  Bob-up-and-down. 
Chau.  How  knowest  thou  ? 
Alis.  Nay,  t'other  ear  is  wise. 

At  the  One  Nine-Pin  she  shall  meet  — 
Chau.  Her  brother. 

Alis.   What  wilt  thou  bet  she  goeth  not  to  meet 

Her  sweetheart  —  aye,  her  lover  ? 
Chau.  Thou  art  daft. 

Alis.   Wilt  6e/ me? 
Chau.  Bet  away ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  15 

Alis.   Ho,  then,  it  is  a  bet,  and  this  the  stakes: 
If  that  my  Lady  Prioress  shall  give 
Yon  brooch  of  gold  from  off  her  pretty  wrist 
Unto  the  man  whom  she  goes  now  to  meet, 
And  that  same  man  prove  not  to  be  her  brother  — 
Then  thou  shalt  marry  me  at  Canterbury. 

Chau.   a  twenty  of  thee,  dame.     But  if  thou  lose 
The  stakes,  then  thou  shalt  kneel  adown  and  kiss 
Yon  brooch  of  gold  upon  her  pretty  wrist, 
And  pray  the  saints  to  heal  thy  jealousy. 

Alis.   Aye,  man,  it  is  a  bet ;  and  here's  my  fist. 

Chau.   And  here's  mine,  Alis ;  thou  art  a  good  fellow. 

Alis.   Mind ;  if  I  win,  right  there  we'll  be  betrothed, 
And  thou  must  marry  me  by  England's  law. 

Chau.   [Laughing.]     I'U  take  my  chance. 

The  Swains.    [Entering^  in  uproar.]     Come  hither,  love,  to 
me! 

Alis.   Here  come  my  choir-boys.      [Beckoning  the  Swains.] 
Come    here,    sweethearts !    Hark !     I    have    made    a 

bet 
With  goodman  Geoffrey  yonder.     Him  as  helps 
Me  best  to  win  my  bet,  by  God !  he  shall 
Make  merry  for  my  marriage.     Come,  which  fellow 
Will  help  me  ? 

All.  I ! 

Alis.  The  best  shall  make  me  bride. 

[A  horn  is  blown.    Pilgrims  come  in,  dressed  for  rid- 
ing.    Chaucer  hails  them.] 

Chau.  Lordings,  who  goes  to  Canterbury  ? 

All.  I! 


1 6  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Chau.   Ho,  horses  there  !     To  Canterbury  ! 

All.  To  Canterbury ! 

Chau.    [Approaching  the  Prioress,  ofers  his  arm.]    Madame, 

will  you  vouchsafe  to  me  the  honor  ? 
Pri.    {With  stately  courtesy.]     Merci ! 

Alis.   [Mocking  the  Prioress,  takes  Chaucer's  other  arm.] 
Merci ! 

\With  humorous  pantomime,  Chaucer  escorts  them 
both  toward  the  door,  as  all  present,  preparing  to 
depart,  join  in  the  chorus  of  Pilgrims.] 

Cho.    Saint  Thomas  he  is  a  goodly  soul ; 

He  heals  the  world  and  makes  it  whole ; 
He  gladdens  hearts  of  every  age 
And  hales  them  forth  on  pilgrimage. 
Where  Httle  larks,  as  they  fly  up 
To  share  his  holy-water  cup, 
In  Thomas'  name  this  carol  sing  : 
Alleluyah ! 
Love  is  lord  of  Spring ! 

Saint  Thomas'  voice  is  a  holy  bell ; 

It  sounds  where  all  sad  people  dwell ; 

And  all  who  hear  lay  down  their  load 

To  ride  on  Canterbury  road. 

Where  mavis,  ouzel,  thrush  and  wren 
Mingle  their  songs  in  the  throats  of  men 

To  raise  this  hymn  to  his  hallowing  : 
Alleluyah ! 
Love  is  lord  of  Spring ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  17 

Saint  Thomas'  good  and  merry  voice 
The  ploughmen  hear  it  and  rejoice, 
The  yeomen  harken  on  the  hills 
Where  April  leads  the  daffodils, 

Till  lover,  leper,  knight  and  thrall 

Ride  forth  together,  one  and  all. 
To  chant  aloud  this  holy  thing: 
Alleluyah ! 

Love  is  lord  of  Spring ! 


ACT  SECOND 

Scene:    Garden  of  the  One  Nine-Pin  inn,  at  the  little  hamlet 
of  Bob-up-and-down,  en  route  to  Canterbury. 

Enter  Chaucer  and  the  Squire. 

Chau.   Boy,  what  a  ride  !    Was  ever  such  a  ride 

As  ours  from  London  ?  —  Hillsides  newly  greened, 
Brooks  splashing  silver  in  the  small  sweet  grass. 
Pelt  gusts  of  rain  dark'ning  the  hills,  and  then 
Wide  swallowed  up  in  sunshine  !     Hark,  0  hark  ! 

[A  cuckoo  sounds ;  they  listen^ 
The  meadow  is  the  cuckoo's  clock,  and  strikes 
The  every  hour  at  every  minute ;  larks  run  up 
And  ring  its  golden  chimes  against  the  sun. 

Squire.   Sir,  only  lovers  count  the  time  in  heaven. 
Are  you  in  love? 

Chau.  Ah,  over  head  and  heart. 

Squire.   And  is  your  lady  kind  ? 

Chau.  As  angels  are ; 

For  she  is  distant  as  the  evening  star  — 
And  though  I  love  her,  she  may  never  know 
Nor  I  reveal  my  love. 

Squire.  Have  you  no  hope  ? 

Would  I  might  help  you,  for  I  am  myself 
Unhappy  in  my  love. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  19 

Chau.  Nay,  then,  let  me 

Help  you.     What's  wrong? 
Squire.  Alas,  my  lady's  name  ! 

I  cannot  tell  my  love  euphoniously. 
Chau.   How  so  ? 
Squire.  Her  name  is  not  poetical. 

Johanna !    Who  can  sonnetize  Johanna ! 
Chau.   Invent  a  name  to  please  you. 
Squire.  Euphranasia  — 

I've  thought  of  Euphranasia. 
Friar.    [Pops  his  head  from  behind  the  ivalL]    Qui  est  la? 

[Dodges  down  again.] 
Squire.   How  like  you  Helena  ? 
Pri.    [Sings   within.]      A    solis    ortu    usque    ad    occasum, 

laudabile  nomen  Domini ! 
Squire.  Euridice? 

Chau.   [Listening  to  the  Prioress's  voice,  lifts  a  spray  of 
honeysuckle  on  the  wall.]     No,  no !    This  spray  shall 
name  her.     [The  Friar  peeps  over  the  wall  again.] 
Squire.  Eglantine! 

Music  itself  !    But,  sir,  I  have  an  aunt  named  Eglantine. 

My  father  journeys  here  to  meet  her  now. 

What  matter  ?  —  Eglantine  ! 
Chau.   Now  Eglantine  shall  be  your  love's  new  name 

And  I  will  write  her  verses  for  you. 
Squire.  [Joyfully.]  You! 

Oh,  you  are  kind  to  serve  me  so. 
Chau.  Nay,  lad; 

For,  serving  so,  I  solace  my  own  heart. 

Now  leave  me,  for  my  heart  is  fain  to  sing 


20  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Verses  to  Eglantine.     Come  back  for  them 
At  chapel  bell. 
Squire.    [Hastening  of]     I  will,  and  thank  you,  sir ! 
And,  sir,  my  lady's  home's  in  Italy. 
Pray,  in  your  verses,  mention  Italy. 

[Chaucer  waves  to  him  as  he  departs,  then  stands 
musing.] 
Chau.   Italy !  —  Eglantine  ! 

[Entering  the  arbour,  he  begins  to  "write.] 
Eglantine, 
O  to  be 

There  with  thee 
In  olive-silvered  Italy ! 
[Enter,  right,  the  Prioress,  carrying  her  little  hound. 
Chaucer  sees  her,  and  starts,  exclaiming  low:] 
Eglantine ! 
Pri.    [To  her  little  hound.]     Jacquette,  ma  petite,  it  is  a 
pretty  day. 
See  you  those  clouds?     They  are  St.  Agnes'  sheep; 
She  hath  washed  their  wool  all  white  and  turned  'em 

loose 
To  play  on  Heaven's  warm  hillside.     Smell  that  rose? 
Chau.   Gods  !     Must  I  hand  her  over  —  to  a  brother  ! 
Pri.   [Plucking    the  rose^s    petals   till   the  last   petal  falls.] 
Pater   noster   [our  Father],  qui  es  in  coelis  [which 
art    in    heaven],    sanctificetur    nomen    tuum     [hal- 
lowed    be    Thy    name].      Adveniat  regnum  tuum 
[Thy    kingdom  come] ;    fiat  voluntas  tua  [Thy  will 
be  done] ! 
Chau.   Amen  !    I  must  resign  ! 


THE  CANTERBURY   PILGRIMS  21 

\Ee  is  about  to  step  from  the  arbor  and  discover  him- 
self, but  pauses  as  a  shout  of  the  Pilgrims  comes 
from  within.] 
Pilgrims.  The  Wife  of  Bath 

She's  a  good  fellow, 
A  maiden  mellow 
Of  aftermath. 
Pri.    [Startled.]     Vite,  vite,  ma  petite  ! 

[She  hastens  to  the  arbour,  where  Chaucer  quickly 
pretends  to  be  absorbed  in  writing.  As  she  is  with- 
drawing hastily,  however,  he  turns  round.] 

Monsieur,  excusez  moi ! 
Chau.   Madame,  the  fault  is  mine  ;  I  crave  your  pardon. 
Pri.   What  fault,  Monsieur  ? 

Chau.  [Breaks  a  spray  from  the  arbour  and  hands  it  to 
her]  I  trespass  in  your  bower. 

Permettez. 
Pri.  Honeysuckle  ? 

Chau.  So  'tis  called ; 

But  poets,  lady,  name  it  —  eglantine. 
Pri.   M'sieur! 

Chau.  May  I  remain  and  call  it  so  ? 

Pri.  [Hearing  the  approach  of  the  Pilgrims,  looks  tim- 
orously to  him  for  protection.]  M'sieur,  this  is 
Jacquette,  my  little  hound. 

[Chaucer  takes  the  pup ;  they  retire  farther  into  the 
arbour,  as  the  Wife  of  Bath  enters  from  the  inn. 
She  is  accompanied  by  her  Swains,  the  Friar, 
Miller,  Cook,  Summoner,  Pardoner,  and 
Shipman,  who  enter  singing.  They  lift  her  upon 
the  table,  and  form  a  circle  around  her] 


22  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Pilgrims.  The  Wife  of  Bath 

She's  a  good  fellow, 
A  maiden  mellow 
Of  aftermath. 

She  cuts  a  swath 

Through  sere-and-yellow ; 

No  weeping  willow 
Bestrews  her  path. 

Her  voice  in  wrath 

Is  a  bullock's  bellow ; 

For  every  good  fellow 
Eyes  she  hath. 

She's  a  good  fellow 
The  Wife  of  Bath ! 

Alis.   Let's  have  an  elf  dance.     Come  ! 

[To  the  SuMMONER.]     Thy  arm,  sweet  Puck  ! 
[The  Miller,  sitting  on  the  wall,  plays  his  pipe, 
while  Alisoun  dances  with  her  Swains,  each  of 
whom  is  jealous  of  the  rest.     Chaucer  and  the 
Prioress  still  remain  out  of  sight  in  the  arbour. 
As  the  music  grows  merrier,  the  Prioress  begins 
to  click  the  beads  of  her  rosary  rhythmically.] 
Chaxj.   Why  do  you  tell  your  beads,  Madame  ? 
Pri.  To  keep 

The  fairies  from  my  feet. 
Chau.  The  fairies  ? 

Pri.  Yes, 

The  pipe  has  set  them  free.     I  feel  them  twitch  me. 


THE  CANTERBURY   PILGRIMS  23 

Chau.   Why  drive  them  away? 

Pri.  Monsieur ! 

Chau.  See  you  the  birds  ? 

St.  Francis  taught  that  we  should  learn  of  them. 
Pri.   What  do  they? 
Chau.  Sing,  and  dance  from  bough  to  bough. 

The  Muses  sang ;  and  St.  Cecilia  danced. 
Pri.   Think  you  she  danced,  sir,  of  her  own  sweet  will? 
Chau.   Nay,  not  in  April !     In  April,  'tis  God's  will. 
Pri.   Monsieur  —  [Gives  her  hand  shyly  to  Chaucer.]    'tis 
April. 

[They  dance,  in  stately  fashion,  within  the  arbour. 
Forgetting  themselves  in  the  dance,  however,  they 
come  a  little  too  far  forward;  Alisoun  spies  them, 
and,  clapping  her  hands,  the  music  stops ^ 
Alis.  Caught !     Ho,  turtle-doves  ! 

Come  forth.  Sir  Elvish  Knight,  Sir  Oberon ! 
Fetch  forth  thy  veiled  nymph,  that  trips  so  fair. 

[Chaucer  steps  forth  from  the  arbour.     The  Prior- 
ess seizes  her  little  hound  from  the  settle  and  hides 
her  face] 
All.    \With  laughter.]    Hail ! 
Chau.  Silence,  loons !    And  thou,  wife,  hold  thy  tongue 

And  know  thy  betters. 
Alis.  Betters !  —  Ho  !  mind  our  bet ! 

When  I  have  won,  thou  shalt  eat  humble  pie. 
Chau.   Be  gone !    And   mind  you,  when  you  mock  this 
lady, 
That  all  the  saints,  to  whom  you  bumpkins  pray, 
Dance  with  the  Virgin  round  the  throne  of  God. 


24  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

[Some  of  the  Pilgrims  retire;  others  remain  staring 
and  bow  as  Chaucer  and  the  Prioress  cross  to 
the  inn  door,  and  go  within.  Alisoun  is  left  alone, 
biting  her  fingers  in  rage.  The  Friar  enters,  ap- 
proaches, and  sings  with  merry  mockery.] 

Friar.  Ye  lasses  jilted,  lovers  drooped, 

Rose-lip  — 
Alis.     Shut  up ! 

Friar.  Rose-lip,  white-brow,  blue-eye,  brown-tress, 

Confide  your  pretty  hearts  !     Confess 
To  the  pleasant  Friar ;  trust  not  Cupid,  — 
Alis.    [To  herself .]    By  Peter! 

I  have  the  plan  ! 
Friar.    [Sings  on.]    Love  is  a  liar  ! 

But  lovers  love  the  pleasant  Friar, 
Who,  making  of  their  burdens  less  — 
[Here  he  approaches  Alisoun  caressingly,  and  deftly 
steals  a  gold  pin  from  her  head-dress.] 
Alis.    [Laughing  to  herself.]     Ha !  that  shall  win  my  bet ! 

What,  Huberd !    Harkee  ! 
Friar.   [Secreting  the  pin.] 

Ben'cite ! 
(Thus  singeth  he.) 
Bene-benedicite ! 

Alis.  Wilt  thou  hear  my  plan  ? 

List  now !     Ye  wot  I  made  a  bet  last  night 
With  Geoffrey.     This  was  it :  Dame  Eglantine, 
Here  at  this  inn  expects  to  meet  her  brother. 

Friar.   You  mean  —  Dan  Roderigo. 


TEE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  25 

Alis.  Aye ;  but  as 

She  hath  not  seen  him  since  she  was  a  child, 

She  hath  not  recognized  him.     He,  ye  ken. 

Doth  wear  a  ring  wi'  a  Latin  posy  in't. 
Friar.   I  know;   'tis  "Amor  vincit  omnia," 

The  same  as  on  her  brooch. 
Alis.  There  hangs  my  bet. 

For  if  Dame  Eglantine  shall  give  yon  brooch 

Into  the  hands  of  any  but  her  brother, 

Then  Geoffrey  marries  me  at  Canterbury. 
Friar.    Diable !    Marries  thee  ? 
Alis.  Aye,  marries  me ! 

A  husband  is  my  holy  pilgrimage. 

And  Geoffrey  is  my  shrine ! 
Friar.  Et  moi  ? 

Alis.  Et  toi? 

Thou  helps  me  catch  my  bird. 

[Enter  the  Miller  by  the  wicket  gate.] 
Friar.  Et  done  ? 

Alis.  "Etdonc?" 

Why,  then,  I'll  give  a  farthing  to  the  Friars. 
Friar.   Nay,  dame,  the  coin  of  Cupid  is  a  kiss. 

One  kiss  pour  moi  —  at  Canterbury  —  un  baiser ! 
Mil.    [Seizing  the  Friar.]     One  pasty,  eh  ?  thou  shorn  ape ! 
Friar.    [Screams.]  Alisoun ! 

Alis.    [Suddenly  embracing  the  Miller,  whispers  to  him.] 
Whist,  Robin,  lad.        I  have  a  plan.       Run  fast ; 
Fetch  here  the  other  lads,  and  bring  a  gag. 
Mil.   a  gag  ?    For  him  ? 
Alis.  Run  quick. 


26  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Mil.   [Going.]  By  Corpus  arms ! 

Friar.    [Tauntingly.] 

Mealy  Miller,  moth-miller, 
Fly  away ! 
If  dame  Butterfly  doth  say  thee  nay, 
Go  and  court  a  caterpillar ! 

Mil.    [Laughing,    shakes   his   fist.]    Ha,   ha !    By    Corpus 
bones !  [Exit  at  gate.] 

Alis.  Now,  bird,  the  plot ! 

I've  sent  him  for  a  gag. 
Friar.  A  gag  ?    What  for  ? 

Alis.   To  win  my  bet,  of  course.     'Tis  for  this  Knight, 
The  Prioress'  brother,  —  him  that  wears  the  ring 
With  Amor  Vincit  Omnia. 
Friar.  Ho,  ho ! 

Alis.   I  bet  with  Geoffrey  '  him  who  wears  the  ring 
Will  be  Milady's  lover.'     So,  sweet  bird, 
I  will  enact  the  lover  and  the  Knight 
And  woo  Dame  Eglantine. 
Friar.  Thou!    Play  the  Knight? 

Alis.    [Jingling  her  spurs.]    Who  else  ?    I've  won  my  spurs. 
Hark  !  then  :   Bob  Miller 
With  you  and  t'other  lads  shall  gag  this  Knight 
And  tie  him  fast  in  yonder  cellar.     There 
We'll  steal  his  ring  and  clothes. 

[Snatching  from  the  Friar's  hood  a  beard.] 
And  I  will  borrow 
This  false  beard  from  thy  tippet. 

[She  puts  it  on,  laughing.] 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  27 

Friar.  Ho,  thou  wit 

Of  Aristotle ! 
[Re-enter,  left,  Chaucer,  in  meditation.     Alisoun  gives  a 

gesture  of  silence. \ 
Alis.  Whist,  now !     Come  away  ! 

Chau.    [Reads  from  his  parchment \ 

Eglantine, 
Otobe 

There  with  thee 
Over  sea 
In  olive-silvered  Italy ! 

[A  bell  sounds  outside;  Chaucer  pauses,  and 
draws  out  a  pocket  sun-dial.] 

The  chapel  bell !    My  signorino  soon 

Will  claim  his  verses !         [Reads  on  to  himself,  writing.] 
Alis.    [Aside  to  Friar.]  Eglantine!    What's  this? 

Friar.   Love  verses.     He  hath  writ  them  for  the  Squire 

To  give  unto  his  lady-love  Johanna, 

Who  comes  from  Italy. 
Alis.     But  he  said  "Eglantine." 
Friar.  Aye,  dame ;  he  calls 

Her  Eglantine  to  be  poetical. 
Alis.   Love  verses,  sayst  thou !     Filch  them,  bird,  and  let 

Milady  Prioress  read  them  ! 
Friar.  Ho,  well  planned ! 

A  merry  plot !    Hide,  then,  and  watch  me  now. 

[Alisoun  hides  by  the  wicket  gate.  The  Friar 
obsequiously  approaches  Chaucer,  who  reads  on, 
to  himself.] 


28  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Chau.  —  In  olive-silvered  Italy ! 

There  to  pray 
At  thy  shrine  — 
There  to  lay 
This  green  spray  — 
Friar.   Sir,  benedicite ! 
Chau.  The  same  to  you ! 

Friar.   The  gentle  Squire  sent  me  for  his  verses. 
Chau.   They  are  just  finished.     Give  him  these. 

[Handing  the  parchment  and  a  green  sprig  to  the  Friar.] 

This  spray 
Of  eglantine  goes  with  them. 
Friar.    [Bowing]  Save  you,  sir  ! 

[The  Friar  returns  to  Alisoun.     Chaucer,  absent- 
minded,  passes  on  to  the  inn  door,  musing  aloud.] 
Chau.  April,  May, 

Cannot  stay : 
We  be  pilgrims  —  so  are  they ! 
And  our  shrine 
Far  away 
Is  the  heart  of  Eglantine.  [Ejci/.] 

[Enter  from  the  inn,  the  Knight  ;   from  the  wicket  gate,  the 
Swains,  with  rope  and  a  gag.] 

Alis.    [To  the  Friar.]     Quick  ;  here's  our  Knight.     Go  find 
the  Prioress, 
And  when  you've  given  her  the  verses,  join 
Me  and  the  other  fellows  in  the  cellar. 

[Jerking  her  thumb  at  the  ELnight.] 
He'll  be  with  us. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  29 

Friar.  Thy  valet  comprehends. 

Knight.    [To  the  Friar.]     Good  fellow,  have  you  seen  my 

son,  the  Squire? 
Friar.   My  lord,  that  dame  can  tell  you. 

[Throwing  a  kiss  to  Alisoun.]     Au  revoir  ! 
[Then,  throwing  another  to  the  Miller,  he  sings  as 
he  skips  out.] 

Ma  douce  gazelle, 
Ma  gazelle  belle, 
Bon  soir ! 
Knight.   This  woman  tell  me  of  my  son  !     'Tis  strange. 
Alis.    [Aside  to  the  Miller.]     Ye  ken  ! 
Mil.  Aye,  aye. 

[Looking  pleased,  he  speaks  to  the  others  aside. 
During  the  following  scene,  all  of  them  approach 
the  Knight  cautiously  with  ropes  and  a  gag,  while 
Alisoun,  distracting  the  Knight,  warns  or 
urges  them  in  pantomime.] 
Knight.  Good  woman,  have  you  seen  — 

Alis.   And  do  mine  eyes  behold  him  once  again  ? 

O  sir !    The  blissful  saints  requite  you,  sir ! 
Knight.   For  what,  good  dame  ? 

Alis.  His  voice  !    That  I  should  hear 

His  voice  once  more  !    The  vision  bursts  again 
Upon  my  brain:   the  swords,  the  sweated  horse, 
The  lifted  battle-mace,  and  then  his  arms. 
His  arms  around  me  —  saved  !     [Falling  at  his  feet.] 

Oh,  can  it  be  ? 
Knight.   Off  me,  thou  wife  of  Satan  ! 
Alis.  Heard  ye  that? 


3° 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 


Lads,  to  the  rescue  ! 
Knight.  Sorcery ! 

[The  Miller  and  Alisoun  gag  the  Knight,  while 
the  others  assist  in  binding  him.] 
Alis.  Quick,  Robin ! 

Take    off    his    finger-ring.     Mum,    sweethearts !    In, 
now! 

[Exeunt  omnes,  carrying  the  Knight  into  the  inn 

cellar. 
Enter  the   Squire  atid   Johanna.    Passing  along 
behind   the   wall,  they   enter    the   garden   by  the 
wicket  gate.] 
Squire.   Johanna !     O  my  lady,  welcome  back 

From  Italy  !     Whom  came  you  here  withal  ? 
Jo.   With    Spring    I    came.     We    heard    the    snows    were 
thawed 
In  Merry  England.     Sir,  why  sent  you  not 
Those  songs  you  promised  ? 
Squire.  I  have  writ  to-day 

New  verses  for  you. 
Jo.  So !  What  are  they  ?    Rondeaux, 

Amoretti,  ballads,  sonnets,  odes? 
[The  Squire  looks  embarrassed.]    Well,  well? 
Squire.   Nay,  I  know  not. 
Jo.  You  know  not ! 

Squire.  Not  as  yet. 

Jo.   You  write  me  songs,  yet  know  not  what  they  are  ! 

Farewell,  sir !  [Exit.] 

Squire.    [Hastily  following  her.]      Only  wait !     I  will  ex- 
plain. [Exit.] 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  31 

[Enter,  right,  from  the  inn,  the  Prioress  and  Friar,  the 
former  reading  a  parchment.] 

Pri.    In  sooth,  the  verse  is  very  beautiful: 
[Reads.]     "Eglantine, 
O  to  be 

There  with  thee, 
Over  sea, 
In  olive-silvered  Italy  !  " 

But,  gentle  Friar,  why  in  Italy 

When  I'm  in  England  ? 
Friar.  Dame,  'tis  poetry : 

In  poetry,  all  ladies  have  blue  eyes 

And  Hve  in  Italy. 
Pri.  And  is  this  truly 

For  me  ? 
Friar.  He  bade  me  give  it  —  with  this  spray. 

Pri.    [Taking  the  sprig  of  eglantine.]     He  is  so  chivalrous ! 
But  I  must  finish. 

"  In  olive-silvered  Italy ! 

There  to  pray 
At  thy  shrine. 
There  to  lay 
This  green  spray 
Of  our  English  eglantine 
At  thy  feet ! 

Lady  mine. 
Then  wouldst  thou  say  : 
'  Pilgrim  sweet 


32  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

In  Padua, 
Take  it ;  it  is  thine  '  ? 

Say  not  nay, 
Fairest,  dearest,  far-away 
Donna  Eglantine ! " 

Friar.   Alas,  Madame,  I  did  but  do  my  duty. 

He  bade  me  bring  them. 
Pri.  From  my  heart  I  thank  you. 

They  are  very  beautiful. 
Friar.  But  amorous ! 

I  fear  they  are  love-wQists. 
Pri.  Love !    To  me  ? 

Impossible  !    He  is  a  gentleman. 
Friar.   How  know  you,  lady  ? 
Pri.  By  his  noble  mien. 

Friar.   Who  is  he  ?    What's  his  name  ? 
Pri.  I  have  not  asked. 

Friar.   His  family  ?    Who  was  his  father  ? 
Pri.  Nay, 

I  know  not,  yet  — 
Friar.  I  warn  you  to  beware.  — 

[Pointing  at  the  parchment.] 

His  looks  are  dangerous.  —  He  writes  of  love  ! 
Pri.    No,  no  !    It  cannot  be. 

[Enter  Chaucer. 
The  Prioress   addresses   Chaucer  with  naive  con- 
fidence, handing  him  the  parchment.] 
Sir,  is  it  so  ? 
Are  these  love  verses?     [The  Friar  goes  out  hastily.] 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  t,t, 

Chau.    [Examining  the  parchment.] 

Yes,  Madame !    I  wrote  them. 
Pri.   Ah  ciel !     O  quelle  outrage  !  [She  turns  away.] 

[Enter  the  Squire,  followed  in  a  moment  by  Johanna.     He 
hastens  to  Chaucer.] 

Chau.    [Wonder struck,    dropping   the   parchment,    stares    at 

the  Prioress.]     Madame ! 
Squire.    [Picking  up  the  parchment.]     Is  this 

The  song?     [Glancing  at  it.]     Ah,   yes!     "To   Eglan- 
tine!" 
Jo.    [Entering,  addresses  the  Squire.]     Well,  sir, 

Where  are  my  verses? 
Squire.    [Handing  her  the  parchment.]     Here. 
Chau.   [To   the   Squire,   indicating   the   Prioress.]     Why 
gave  you  that 

To  her? 
Jo.    [Exclaiming.]    To  her  ! 

Squire.  Indeed,  I  gave  it  not. 

Jo.    [Glancing  at  the  parchment,  reads.] 

"To  Eglantine!" 
Chau.   [Turning  to  the  Prioress.] 

Dear  Lady  Eglantine ! 
Pri.    [Turning  from  him.]     No,  no  ! 

Jo.    [Fiercely,  pointing  at  the  Prioress.]      Yes,  yes,  to  her  ! 
Squire.   [Appalled,  to  Johanna.]  No,  no,  to  you! 

Chau.   [To  the  Prioress.]    I  wrote  them  not  to  you. 
Jo.   [To  the  Squire.]  He  wrote  them !    He? 

You  wrote  them  not  to  me  ? 


34  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Pri.    [To  Chaucer.]  You  wrote  them  not 

To  me? 
Chaucer.   [Indicating  Johanna.] 

For  yonder  lady. 
Pri.    [Excited  to  tears]  Love  verses  to  her ! 

Jo.   O  brute !    What  boor  is  this? 
Squire.  You  know  him  not. 

'Tis  a  noble  gentleman. 
Pri.   [ro  Chaucer.]  Ah  me,  who  are  you  ? 

Who  was  your  father,  sir  ? 
Chau.  a  vintner,  lady, 

In  London. 

[Enter  Alisoun  from  the  cellar.] 

Alis.  Ha,  ha,  ha !     God  save  my  betters ! 

Pri.   Alas,  the  Friar  spoke  true. 

Chau.  The  Friar ! 

Squire.  The  Friar ! 

Friar.    [Sings  from  behind  the  wall.] 

Love  is  a  liar, 
But  lovers  love  the  pleasant  Friar, 
Who,  making  of  their  burdens  less  — 

Johanna,  Squire,  Chaucer,  Prioress,  Alisoun.  [In  med- 
ley.] 

Jo.    [To  the  Squire.]     O  false !    A  boor  insults  your  love. 

Squire.   [To  Johanna.]    Nay,  love,  'tis  you  are  Eglantine ! 

Chau.    [To  Prioress.]     Dear  Saint,  forgive  my  trespasses ! 

Pri.  [To  Chaucer.]  Ah,  ciel !  Whom  may  I  trust  on 
earth  ? 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  35 

Alis.   Ha,  ha !    The  fishes  bite  the  bait ! 
Friar.   [Popping  his  head  above  the  wall,  with  a  mock  gesture 
of  benediction,  sings.] 

Ben'cite ! 
(Thus  singeth  he.) 
Bene  —  benedicite ! 


ACT  THIRD 

The  hall  of  the  One  Nine-Pin  inn. 

Evening  of  the  same  day. 

Outside,  the  chapel  hell  is  ringing. 
By  the  light  of  a  single  torch,  the  Pilgrims  are  seen  putting 

on  their  cloaks  and  hoods,  and  taking  links  from  a  tap-boy, 

who  distributes  them.     These  links,  as  they  are  lit,  throw 

an  ever  stronger  light  upon  the  grouped  faces  and  contrasted 

garbs  of  the  company. 
With  their  lighted  torches,  the  Pilgrims  pass  out  of  doors,  in 

the  direction  of  the  sound  of  the  bell,  singing  in  chorus. 

Pilgrims. 

Saint  Thomas'  voice  is  a  holy  bell ; 

It  sounds  where  all  sad  people  dwell ; 

And  all  who  hear  lay  down  their  load 

To  ride  on  Canterbury  road, 

Where  mavis,  ouzel,  thrush  and  wren 
Mingle  their  songs  in  the  throats  of  men 

To  raise  this  hymn  to  his  hallowing  : 
Alleluyah ! 
Love  is  lord  of  Spring ! 

[Among  the  very  last,  the  Prioress  —  attended  by 
Joannes  and  the  Nuns  —  is  about  to  pass  out, 
when  Chaucer   approaches  her  with  courteous 
supplication.] 
Chau.   Madame,  goes  she  to  chapel  ? 

36 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  37 

[The  Prioress  pauses  stiffly.] 

—  Dear  my  lady, 
The  night  is  very  beautiful. 
Pri.   [Not  looking  at  Chaucer.]     Joannes ! 
Chau.   I  come  to  bring  you  tidings  of  your  brother. 
Joan.   What  would  Madame  ? 
Chau.  The  moon  — 

Pri.   [To  Joannes.]  Go  !    Go  to  chapel ! 

[Joannes  and  the  Nuns  go  out.] 
Alors,  Monsieur,  vous  dites  —  mon  frere  —  ? 
Chau.  Your  brother  — 

[Aside  as  they  go  out.]     Oh,  drown  her  brother ! 

[Cautiously  now  the  cellar  door  is  opened,  and  the 
Miller   enters.     He   whistles   softly;   some   one 
within  whistles  in  answer.] 
Mil.   Whist !    Is  he  gagged  below  there  ? 
Ship.   [His  head  appearing.]  Aye,  all's  tight. 

[The  Miller  beckons.  Enter  the  Shipman,  Cook, 
SuMMONER,  Pardoner,  and  Friar,  the  last 
being  disguised  as  a  chimney-sweep.  Following 
them  enters  Alisoun,  disguised  in  the  garb  of 
the  Knight,  with  a  scarlet-lined  mantle.] 
Mil.  [Bowing  low.]  This  way,  your  lordship  ! 
Ship.  Save  your  worship  ! 

All  the  Swains.  Hail, 

Dan  Roderigo ! 
Alis.    [While  the  Swains  assist  in  adjusting  her  disguise.] 
Good  my  squires,  I  thank  you. 
[To  the  Miller.]     Bob,  sweetheart,  lace  my  boot  there, 
—  how's  my  doublet  ? 


38  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

God  send  my  virgin  sister  like  my  beard 

Better  than  me. 
Friar.  Let  me  amend  it,  love !     [He  kisses  her.] 

Alis.   Avaunt,  vile  chimney-sweep ! 
Mil.   [Kicking  him.]  Ho,  scarecat  Friar ! 

Look !  he  has  blacked  his  Friar's  skin  to  save  it, 

For  fear  that  Geoffrey  and  the  young  Squire  catch  him 

And  flay  it  off. 
Ship.   [To  the  others.]    Let's  blab  on  him. 
Alis.  No  wrangling ! 

Kneel  down !    Kneel  down,  the  batch  o'  ye,  and  swear — 

Swear,  as  ye  hope  to  win  this  lily-white  hand  — 

Ye  will  be  brothers  till  I  win  my  bet. 

Out  with  your  oaths,  now  !     Kiss  my  foot,  and  say: 

By  Venus'  lip. 
And  Alis'  hip, 
I  swear  to  keep 
This  fellowship ! 

The  Swains.   [Severally  kissing  her  extended  foot.] 

By  Venus'  lip, 
And  Alis'  hip, 
I  swear  to  keep 
This  fellowship ! 

Alis.   Back  to  the  cellar,  now,  and  guard  the  Knight. 

Tie  fast  and  gag  whoever  enters  there ; 

But  when  I  clap  my  hands  —  so  —  and  cry  "  Host ! " 

Come  forth. 

[To  the  Miller.]    Ye  ken? 
Mil.  Aye,  when  thou  cries  me  "Host !" 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  39 

[All  hut  Alisoun  and  the  Friar  retire  to  the  cellar. 

The  Friar  peeps  out  through    the    outer  door, 

then  hurries  to  Alisoun,  with  a  warning  gesture.] 

Friar.   The  Prioress ! 

Alis.  Quick !     [They  hide  in  the  cupboard] 

[Enter,  from  out  of  doors,  the  Prioress  and  Chaucer.] 
Pri.  Parlez  toujours,  Monsieur  ! 

Parlez  toujours ! 
Chau.  How  silver  falls  the  night ! 

The  hills  lie  down  like  sheep;    the  young  frog  flutes; 

The  yellow-ammer,  from  his  coppice,  pipes 

Drowsy  rehearsals  of  his  matin  song ; 

The  latest  swallow  dips  behind  the  stack.  — ■ 

What  beauty  dreams  in  silence !    The  white  stars. 

Like  folded  daisies  in  a  summer  field, 

Sleep  in  their  dew,  and  by  yon  primrose  gap 

In  darkness'  hedge,  St.  Ruth  hath  dropped  her  sickle. 
Pri.   Nay,  yonder's  the  new  moon. 
Chau.  But  here's  St.  Ruth, 

Whose  pity  hath  reprieved  a  vintner's  son. 

Your  nephew's  verses  — 
Pri.  Pray,  speak  not  of  them ; 

But  now  —  [Turning  to  the  casement.] 

Speak  of  the  night ;  parlez.  Monsieur ! 
Chau.   [Looking  forth  at  the  sky.\    Yea,  if  perchance  there 

were  some  other  star  — 
Pri.   Some  other  star  — 
Chau.   O,  if  beyond  our  world 

There  were  some  other  star  — 

Some  hallowed  star,  where  our  two  souls  might  stand 


40  THE  CANTERBURY   PILGRIMS 

Purged  of  this  passionate  clay, 
And  watch  where  love  and  youth 
Hold  mass  at  nature's  May-pole ;  on  that  star 
There  would  I  take  your  hand, 
And  there  I  would  not  say 

''I  love  you !"  —  not  *'I  love  you !"  but  "we  love." 
Pri.   Monsieur,  'tis  true. 
Chau.  To  speak  the  simple  truth 

To  you  is  sweet,  Madame. 
Pri.  Merci,  Monsieur. 

[They  look  forth  in  silence.    After  a  pause,  Alisoun 
and  the  Friar  peer  forth  from  the  cupboard.] 
Alis.   Whist ;  are  they  gone  ? 
Friar.  Not  yet. 

Alis.  Bones !  are  they  dumb  ? 

Friar.   Art  jealous,  dame  ? 
Alis.  Shut  up ! 

[Alisoun  draws  hack  in  the  cupboard.     The  Friar 
tiptoes  of,  right,  unobserved] 
Chau.   [At  the  window]     Some  other  star !     Choose,  lady  : 

which  is  ours  ? 
Pri.  Yonder  cool  star,  that  hides  its  winking  light 

Like  a  maid  that  weeps  —  but  not  for  loneliness. 
Chau.   Oh,  that  I  were  a  god,  to  steal  it  for  you 
And  close  it  in  this  locket ! 

[He  seizes  her  wrist  impetuously,  gazing  at  the  locket] 
Pri.   [Simply]  Nay,  that  holds 

My  brother's  hair. 
Chau.    [Dropping  her  hand,  looks  away  into  the  night] 

We  dream ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  41 

Pri.  Of  what,  Monsieur  ? 

Chau.   We  dream  that  we  are  back  in  Eden  garden, 
Where  the  gates  of  God  are  shut  —  and  sin  outside. 

Pri.   Why,  such,  in  truth,  is  love.  —  To  hear  you  speak 
Is  sweeter  than  the  psalter.     Do  not  stop. 

Chau.   Hark !  footsteps  from  the  chapel : 

[Going  to  the  outer  door.] 
Here  comes  your  nephew  with  his  lady  love.  — 
Adieu,  dear  Lady  Dreams  !     I  go  to  find 
The  Knight  your  brother,  and  to  bring  him  to  you.  — 
Adieu ! 

Pri.   Adieu,  Monsieur !  [As  Chaucer  goes  out,  right.] 

—  Some  other  star  !     [She  goes  out,  left.] 

[Enter  the  Squire  and  Johanna  from  out  of  doors.] 

Jo.   So  Geoffrey  wrote  those  verses  for  you  ? 
Squire.  Yes ; 

He  called  you  Eglantine  to  make  them  sound 

Euphonious.     But  the  true  Eglantine 

She  is  my  aunt.     That  Friar  was  to  blame. 

Ha,  when  I  catch  him,  I  will  make  him  smart ! 
Jo.   He  made  us  fools. 
Squire.  Then  you  forgive,  though  we 

Have  quarreled  ? 
Jo.    [Smiling.]     Nay,  I  swear  by  the  old  song : 

Roundabout,  roundabout 
Goes  the  road  to  a  girl's  heart : 
All  who  ride  in  Cupid's  cart 

First  they  must  fall  out. 


42  TEE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Therefore,  lovers,  for  your  moral 

Remember  this : 

Never  kiss,  never  kiss  — 
Before  you  quarrel ! 

Friar.    [Sings  within.] 

What  ho  !    What  ho ! 
Dan  Cupido ! 
A  spurless  knight  usurps  thy  halls  !  — 

Jo.  What's  that? 

Squire.   His  voice !     It  is  the  Friar. 
Friar.   [Sings  within.] 

Thy  fortress  falls 
And  all  her  rosed  charms.  — 
Jo.   Is't  in  the  cellar  ? 
Squire.  Or  the  wall  ? 

[They  look  up  the  chimney.] 
Friar.     [Sings  within.] 

To  arms,  Dan  Cupido  !     To  arms, 
Dan  Cupido ! 

\With  a  rush  of  soot,  the  Friar  falls  into  the  fireplace 
exclaiming :]  Bon  soir  ! 

Jo.   Od's  fiends ! 
Squire.   [Seizing  the  Friar,  drags  him  forth.] 

At  last  I  have  thee,  Friar.  —  How ! 
A  chimney-sweep  ? 
Friar.  Did  scare  the  ladykin  ? 

Squire.   Was't  thou  who  sung  ? 

Friar.  You  mean  the  Friar,  sir! 

He's  hiding. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  43 

Squire.  Where  ? 

Friar.  In  the  cellar. 

Squire.   [Giving  the  Friar  a  coin.] 

Show  me.     Come ! 
[To  Johanna,  pointing  ojf  right.]     Mistress,  await 
me  yonder. 

[To  the  Friar.]     Show  me  the  Friar ; 
I'll  flay  the  scoundrel. 

[The    Friar   opens  the  cellar  door.    Snatching  a 
candle,  the  Squire  precedes  him.] 
Friar.  Ho  —  a  sneaking  Friar ! 

Trust  me ;  a  swindling,  skulking,  lying  Friar !  — 

0  rare  Bob-up-and-down ! 

Jo.    [Calling  after  them.]  Alas !  take  care ! 

[She  goes  off,  right.] 
[Alisoun  comes  from  the  cupboard.     Chaucer  and 
the  Man  of  Law  enter,  left.] 
Chau.   [To  the  Man  of  Law.]    Sir,  have  you  seen  the  Knight 
Dan  Roderigo, 
Who  travels  with  us  toward  Canterbury  ? 
Man  of  Law.   What  Knight  ? 

Chau.  The  young  Squire's  father.    He  intends 

To  meet  his  sister  at  this  wayside  inn. 
She  is  the  Lady  Prioress. 
Man  of  Law.  Nay,  sir ; 

1  know  him  not. 

[Pointing  toward  Alisoun.]    Is  yonder  he  ? 
Chau.  Ah,  thank  you. 

[Chaucer  starts  forward,  hut  stops  on  seeing  he  is 
mistaken.] 


44  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Nay,  'tis  another  man, 
Man  of  Law.  Good  even,  sir !  [Exit.] 

Alis.    [Clapping  her  hands.]     Host !     Host  —  O  ! 

[Enter  from  the  cellar  the  Miller,  crudely  disguised 
in  the  garb  of  an  inn-keeper.     He  comes  forward 
grinning  and  ducking  to  Alisoun.] 
Mil.  Here,  sweet  lording ! 

Alis.    [Digging  him  stealthily  in  the  ribs.] 

Tell  me,  host: 

Hast  thou  residing  in  this  hostelry 

A  gentle  Prioress  ? 
Chau.    [Aside,  starting.]    A  Prioress  ! 
Mil.    [Ducking.]    Aye,  aye,  sweet  lording. 
Alis.  Good !     Go  tell  the  lady 

Her  brother  awaits  her  here. 
Chau.    [Aside,  drawing  nearer.]    Her  brother ! 
Mil.  Aye, 

Sweet  lording !  [He  starts  for  the  door,  left.] 

Alis.  Wait ;  be  sure  to  say  —  her  brother, 

Dan  Roderigo ! 
Mil.  Aye,  sweet  lording  ! 

[He  goes  out,  left.     Chaucer  approaches  Alisoun, 
who  appears  to  ignore  his  presence^ 
Chau.  Sir, 

Your  pardon  if  I  trespass.     By  your  cross 

You  come  — 
Alis.  From  the  Holy  Land. 

Chau.  And  you  have  friends  — 

Friends  at  this  inn  ? 
Alis.  A  friend,  sir ;  a  fair  friend ; 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  45 

By  Jupiter,  a  sweet  friend  1 
Chau.  Ah ! 

Alis.  a  sister. 

She  is  —  a  Prioress. 
Chau.  Good  God ! 

Alis.  How,  sir ! 

Chau.   It  cannot  be. 
Alis.  Signor ! 

Chau.  Her  name  ?    Her  name  ? 

Alis.   Perhaps  you  know  her,  what  ?     'Tis  Eglantine. 
Chau.   Impossible  !  —  Your  sister  ? 
Alis.    [Confidentially.]  Nay,  in  sooth, 

You  need  not  spare  my  blushes.     We  old  lads 

With  beards,  who  sees  our  blushes,  what  ?    So,  then, 

This  Prioress,  she  is  not  just  my  sister. 
Chau.   No? 
Alis.  No. 

Chau.  What  then  ? 

Alis.  Vous  savez  bien,  these  ladies 

When    they    would    have    a    friend,    they    call    him 
"brother"; 

So  we  must  humor  them,  and  call  them  "sister." 

[Winking  at  Chaucer.] 

Therefore  this  little  honeysuckle  lady 

Doth  take  delight  to  call  me  "brother." 
Chau.  Liar ! 

[As  Chaucer  lifts  his  hand  about  to  strike  Alisoun, 
she  raises  hers  to  guard;  seizing  it,  he  beholds  on 
her  finger  the  Knight's  ring.] 

What !  —  "Amor  Vincit  Omnia  ! "  —  Even  her ! 


46  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Alis.   Take  back  your  lie ! 

Chau.  That  ring  !     What  is  that  ring  ? 

Alis.   St.  Madrian !    It  is  my  love  ring.     She, 

My  Eglantine,  gave  it  me.     She  wears  a  brooch 
To  match  it  on  her  wrist. 

[Re-enter,  left,  the  Miller.] 
Mil.  The  Prioress, 

Sweet  lording! 

[Enter  the  Prioress.] 
pRi.    [Coming  forward.]     Brother !  —  Welcome,  brother  ! 
Chau.   [Appalled.]  No! 

God  !  God  !     I'll  not  believe  it ! 

[He  hastens  off,  calling.]     Aubrey  !  —  Squire  ! 

[Exit,  right] 
[The  Miller,  going  to  the  cellar  door,  opens  it  and 
beckons.     The   Swains  come  out,  and  gradually 
draw  near  to  Alisoun  and  the  Prioress.] 
Alis.    My  pretty  virgin  sister ! 
Pri.    [Giving  her  hand,  reticently.] 

Roderigo ! 
[Looking  after  Chaucer.]    Why  did  he  leave  so  soon  ? 
Alis.  Put  up  thy  chin. 

Art  thou  not  glad  to  see  me,  sister? 
Pri.  Yea, 

Mon  frere.     Forgive  me ;   I  had  thought  —  you  see. 
My  nephew  —  'tis  a  pretty  mannered  youth.  — 
You're  not  alike,  are  you  ? 
Alis.    [Laughing.]  By  Peter's  toe, 

I  hope  not.     Saints  deliver  me  from  being 
A  new-hatched  chicken's  feather. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  47 

Pri.  What !     Your  son  ? 

Alis.   Next,  thou'll  be  wishing  I  were  like  that  fellow 

That  fetched  me  here  —  yon  What's-his-name,  yon  — 
Geoffrey. 
Pri.   Why,  'tis  a  noble  gentleman. 
Alis.  Hoho ! 

Your  noble  gentleman  !     Why  harkee,  sweet : 

He  told  me  he's  betrothed  to  an  ale-wife. 
Pri.   He  told  you  —  when  ? 

Alis.  Just  now,  coming  from  chapel. 

Pri.    Her  name  ? 
Alis.    [Stroking  her  beard,  winks  at  the  Swains.] 

What  was  her  name,  now  ?  —  Alisoun, 

The  Wife  of  Bath,  they  call  her. 
Pri.  O  grand  Dieu  ! 

That  person  I 
Alis.  Person  !     God  wot,  'twas  not  so 

Your  Geoffrey  called  her.     "Alisoun  !"  quoth  he, 

"My  lily  Alisoun,  my  fresh  wild-rose. 

My  cowslip  in  the  slough  of  womankind  ! 

Bright  Alisoun  shall  be  my  bride  !" 
Pri.    [Throwing  herself  into  Alisoun's  arms.] 

Mon  frere ! 

Oh,  keep  me  safe,  mon  frere  !  [She  hides  her  face.] 

Mil.    [Laughing.]  By  Corpus  bones ! 

Friar.   Look ! 

Ship.  Hold  me  up  ! 

Pri.   [Starting  back  from  the  Swains.] 

These  !    What  are  these  ? 
Alis.  Begone, 

Varlets ! 


48  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Cook.   [Bowing,  as  he  retires  a  little  with  the  other  Swains.] 

Oh,  aye,  sweet  lording ! 
Ship.  We  know  our  betters  ! 

Alis.    Come,  come,  what  cheer,  my  httle  sister  ?     How  ! 

Hath  that  churl  Geoffrey  wronged  thee  ? 
Pri.  No,  no,  no  ! 

Alis.   Nay,  if  the  churl  hath  wronged  thee,  by  this  brooch  — 
Pri.    Swear  not  by  that.     He  swore  by  that. 
Alis.  0  vile ! 

He  swore  by  this  —  the  brooch  that  holds  my  hair, 

Thy  brother's  hair  ? 
Pri.  But  Roderigo  — 

Alis.  What ! 

Give't  here  !     Or  may  be  thou  hast  promised  it 

To  him? 
Pri.  No,  no,  mon  frere.     Here,  take  it  —  keep  it. 

Alis.    So  !    By  this  brooch  — 

[Aside.]     Now,  lads,  learn  how  to  woo  ! 

Now,  by  this  golden  brooch  of  Eglantine, 

And  by  this  little  slender  wrist  of  pearl 

Where  once  it  hung ;  and  by  the  limpid  eyes 

Of  Eglantine,  and  by  her  ripe,  red  mouth  — 
Pri.   Brother,  such  words  — 
Alis.  Call  me  not  brother,  sweet ; 

A  brother's  blood  is  lukewarm  in  his  limbs. 

But  mine  for  thee  is  lightning.     Look  at  me  ! 

Was  Jove  a  finer  figure  of  a  man 

Than  me  ?    Had  Agamemnon  such  an  arm, 

Or  Hector  such  a  leg  ? 
Pri.  Forbear !    Forbear ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  49 

Alis.   Alack,  she  scorns  me  ! 

Pri.  Help ! 

Alis.  Lo,  love,  I  kneel ! 

Pri.   Joannes !  —  Help  me  !    Save  me  ! 

[Re-enter  Chaucer,  right.] 


Alis.   [To  Prioress.] 

Lovely  nymph. 

Come  to  my  arms  — 

Chau.    [To  Alisoun,  with  sword  drawn] 

Embrace  me ! 

Pri.    [Going  to  his  protection.] 

Cher  Monsieur ! 

Alis.    God  save  you,  Master  Geoffrey  ! 

Chau. 

Draw! 

Friar.   [Aside.] 

Lord!    Lord! 

The  pot  boils.     Now  to  add  the  salt  and  pepper. 

[Exit,  down  cellar.] 
[Enter  now,  from  out  of  doors,  in  quick  succession,  all 
the  Pilgrims,    returning   with   their   links  from 
chapel.] 
Pri.    [To  Chaucer.]     Monsieur  — 
Chau.   [To  Alisoun.]  Draw ! 

Pri.  Do  not  fight,  Monsieur,  I  pray  ! 

Chau.    [To  Alisoun,  who  starids  laughing  at   him.]    Wilt 
draw  thy  weapon  ? 

[To  the  Prioress.]     Is  this  man  your  brother? 
Pri.   Oh,  sir,  I  know  not ;  but  he  hath  insulted  — 
Chau.   Insulted  you?    Enough.     By  all  the  devils, 

Defend  yourself ! 
Alis.    [Drawing  her  sword.]     To  arms,  then  ! 

[They  fight,  amid  uproar  and  commotion,  till  Alisoun 
— ■  being  hard  pressed  —  pauses,  and  holds  up  the 
locket  of  the  Prioress.] 


50  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Hold  !     A  brooch  — 
A  brooch ! 

[Enter,  right,  Johanna.] 
Chau.    [Staring  at  the  locket.]     What  does  this  mean  ? 

[Having  snatched  a  warming-pan  from  one  of  the 
Swains,  to  defend  herself  in  the  scrimmage, 
Alisoun  now  strips  of  her  beard  and  wig  —  her 
own  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders  —  and  con- 
fronts Chaucer.] 
Alis.  Ho,  Geoffrey  mine, 

It  means  this  pan  shall  warm  our  wedding  sheets  ! 
Mil.    [In  angry  dtidgeon.]     What  devil ! 
Chau.  Alisoun !     My  bet  is  lost !  — 

Alis.   Aye,  now  I've  won,  and  thou  art  mine  by  law  ! 
Pri.    [In  frightened  amazement.]     The  Wife  of  Bath  ! 

[The  Pilgrims  crowd  around  and  laugh.] 
Jo.   [Turning  away.]  Impostors  ! 

Alis.    [To  Chaucer.]  Come,  sweet  vintner, 

And  kiss  the  brooch  that  hath  betrothed  our  hearts. 
Pri.   Monsieur,  is  this  true  ? 

[As  Chaucer  turns  to  the  Prioress  in  a  kind  of 
blank  dismay,  enter,  from  the  cellar,  swathed  in  a 
long  gown,  dangling  with  cut  ropes,  and  pale  from 
his  gagging  and  interment  —  the  real  Knight, 
accompanied  by  the  Friar.] 
Knight.   [To  the¥v.iAR.]    Where? 

[The  Friar  points  to  the  Prioress  ;  the  Knight  ad- 
vances toward  her.]  Eglantine ! 
Pri.   [Aghast  at  this  unexpected  apparition,  flees  to  the  priedieu, 
and  kneels.]  No  more  ! 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  51 

Chau.  [Struck,  at  a  flash,  by  this  medley  of  incongruities, 
bursts  into  laughter,  and,  seizing  an  ale-mug,  lifts  it 
high.]     Alis,  I  drink  to  thee  and  woman's  wit ! 

Friar.    God  save  the  vintner  and  the  Wife  of  Bath ! 

The  Pilgrims.  [All  but  the  Miller,  who  withdraws  sulkily, 
burst  into  laughing  chorus.] 

God  save  the  vintner  and  the  Wife  of  Bath ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !    Ho,  ho ! 
Dame  Alisoun  has  drawn  her  net ; 
She's  bagged  her  game,  and  won  her  bet, 
And  plucked  a  husband  by  the  primrose  path. 
Ha,  ha,  ha !    Ho,  ho ! 


ACT  FOURTH 

Time:  The  next  day. 

Scene:  Before  the  west  front  of  Canterbury  Cathedral,  gor- 
geously decorated  with  tapestries,  hatchments,  afid  cloth  of 
gold.  Grouped  near  by  are  temporary  booths  of  venders, 
gaily  trimmed. 

Many  Pilgrims  are  assembled;  others  keep  arriving  from 
diferent  directions,  talking,  praying,  and  sightseeing.  At 
the  Cathedral  door  a  priest  blesses  with  a  sprengel  those 
who  enter. 

Outside,  left,  are  heard  girls'  voices,  sing  ng. 

Enter,  dressed  richly  and  gaily,  Chaucer,  surrounded  by  a 
bevy  of  Canterbury  brooch-girls,  who  have  wreathed  him 
with  flowers  and  long  ribbons,  by  which  they  pidl  him. 
Thus  they  ply  him  with  their  wares,  while  he  attempts  to 
talk  aside  with  the  Man  of  Law,  who  accompanies  him. 

Canterbury  Girls. 

High  and  low, 
Low  and  high, 
Be  they  merry, 
Be  they  glum, 
When  they  come 
To  Canterbury, 
Canterbury, 
Canterbury, 

52 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  53 

Some  low, 
Some  high, 

Canterbury  brooches  buy. 

ChA'j.   Sweet  ladies  —  nay,  sweet  Canterbury  muses  ! 
Not  Hercules  amid  the  Lydian  nymphs 
Was  ravished  by  more  dulcet  harmonies. 
[To  Man  of  Law.]    You  sergeants  of  the  Law  are  subtle 

men. 
Pray  —  ,, 

[He  offers  money,  which  the  Man  of  Law  takes.] 
Man  of  Law.   If  you  insist,  my  lord. 
Chau.  Hush!    Not  "my  lord."  — 

How  stands  the  case  ? 
Man  of  Law.  Why,  thus:  by  English  law. 

No  woman  may  I  e  wedded  but  five  times. 
By  law,  sir,  a  sixth  husband  is  proscribed. 
Chau.    [With  a  knowing  smile.]    You'll  vouch  for  that? 

—  by  law  ? 
Man  of  Law.     Sir,  I  will  quote 

You  precedents  from  William  Conqueror. 
Chau.    [With  mock  despondency.]    Alas,  my  nuptials !    And 
I  would  have  made 
So  neat  a  bridegroom  ! 
A  Girl.  Come,  sir.    Will  you  buy  ? 

Another.   Take  mine ! 

All  the  Girls.  Mine !    Mine  !    Mine  ! 

Chau.  Nay,  fresh  goddesses, 

Your  graces  are  more  heavenly  souvenirs ! 
Sell  to  me  your  glances 
For  a  poet's  fancies ! 


^4  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

[Enter  Alisoun,  attired  gorgeously  as  a  bride.] 

All  the  Girls.   [To  Chaucer.]     Oh-h ! 
Chau.   How  much,  Olympians,  for  your  nectar'd  lips? 
All  the  Girls.   A  kiss !    A  kiss ! 

Alis.     [Intervening.]  Hold  !     Give  the  bride  first  licks  ! 

All  the  Girls.   The  bride ! 

Alis.    [After  kissing  Chaucer.]    Now,  lasses,  come  and  take 
your  turns ! 

Lo,  what  a  pot  of  honey  I  have  won 

To  lure  the  village  butterflies !     Come,  pretties : 

Sip,  sip,  and  die  o'  jealousy. 
A  Girl.  The  shrew  ! 

[The  girls  go  off,  in  piqued  laughter.] 
[Alisoun  is  about  to  etnbrace  Chaucer  again,  when 
he  turns  to  the  Man  of  Law,  with  mock  severity.] 
Chau.    Cold-blooded  knave !    Look  what  you  take  from 
me: 

The  flower  of  women  and  the  wit  of  wives  — 

Yet  I  must  lose  her ! 
Man  of  Law.  Blame  not  me,  sir ;  blame 

The  law. 
Chau.  O  heartless  knave  ! 

Man  of  Law.  By  EngHsh  law, 

No  woman  may  be  wedded  but  five  times. 
Alis.   Hey,  what  ?    What  devil  is  that  ?    Say  it  again. 
Man  of  Law.   By  law,  dame,  a  sixth  husband  is  forbidden. 
Alis.   How  !    You  forbid  me  to  take  Geoffrey  here 

For  my  sixth  husband  ? 
Man  of  Law.  Nay,  the  law  forbids  it. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  55 

Alis.   Pish !    What's  the  fine  ? 

Man  of  Law.  To  hang,  dame,  by  the  neck 

Till  thou  art  dead. 
Alis.  Aye,  man,  —  by  Geoffrey's  neck ! 

Get  out ! 
Chau.    [Winking  at  Alisoun.]     Soft!     Soft!    We'll  bribe 
him. 

[Winking  at  the  Man  of  Law.] 
Sergeant  —  hist ! 
[He  whispers  aside  to  the  Man  of  Law  and  gives 
him  money,  as  if  covertly;   then  he  says  alotid.] 
This  statute  :  is  there  no  appeal  from  it  ? 
Man  of  Law.   A  special  dispensation  from  the  king ; 

That's  all,  sir. 
Alis.  Break  his  head ! 

Chau.  Nay,  Ahs,  here's 

Good  news.     The  king  himself  is  here  to-day 
In  Canterbury.     I  will  beg  him  grant 
This  special  dispensation  for  our  marriage. 
Alis.   Thou  —  ask  the  king? 
Chau.  Why  not  ? 

Alis.  Give  me  a  vintner 

For  cheek  !     Sweet  duck,  I  do  believe  thou  lov'st  me. 

[Enter  the  Miller,  with  the  other  Swains.] 

Chau.   I  am  unworthy,  love,  to  match  thy  wit. 
Mil.   Thou  art  unworthy,  fool,  to  latch  her  shoe. 
Alis.    [Intercepting    a    blow   at    Chaucer.]    Hold,    Robin 
Miller  !     Art  thou  jealous  ? 


56  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Mil.  Aye ! 

[To  the  Swains.]     Axe  her,  who  gagged  the  Knight  ? 
Ship.  Who  tied  the  Squire? 

Pard.   Who  watched  in  the  wet  cellar  ? 
Sum.  Tied  thy  doublet  ? 

Friar.   Who  stole  thy  scarlet  cloak  ? 
Cook.  Who  kissed  thy  toe  ? 

Mil.   Axe  her,  what  made  us  do  it  ?  —  Mayhap  to  make 

Our  wench  a  wedding  with  this  \dntner  here  ? 
Ship.    Revenge ! 
Alis.  Ho,  stand  away  !     My  bridal  bet 

Is  won,  and  Geoffrey  is  my  man  !     He's  mine. 

By  Corpus  nails !  and  them  as  dare  to  raise 

A  fist  at  him  first  deal  with  Alisoun  ! 
Chau.   \WUh  mock  supplication,  as  Alisoun,  with  her  fists, 
keeps  the  Swains  at  bay.] 

Hymen  !  Hymen  !  hover  near ! 
Shed  upon  a  bridegroom  here 
Showers  of  thy  protecting  stars 
Where  his  Venus  turns  to  Mars  ! 

Heralds.  [Outside.]  Make  way !  Room  for  Kling  Rich- 
ard !     Way  !     The  King  ! 

Pri.    [In  the  crowd.]     Shall  we  see  Chaucer  now? 

Squire.  He's  sure  to  come. 

Chau.  [Approaching  the  Prioress  diffidently.]  Ah,  chere 
Madame  !     Vous  voulez  me  condamner  ? 

Pri.  [With  emotion.]  Monsieur !  Monsieur !  You  have 
condemned  yourself. 

Chau.   Think  gently  of  me  yet  a  little  while. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  57 

Pri.   I  think  of  you  no  longer,  sir.     I  come 

To  seek  another  hero. 
Chau.  Who? 

Pri.  a  poet 

Whom  I  have  long  desired  to  look  upon ; 

They  say,  he  will  attend  here  with  the  King. 
Chau.   Who  is  this  poet  hero  whom  you  seek  ? 
Pri.   Dan  Chaucer,  laureate  of  chivalry.  — 

I  am  done  with  boors  and  vintners.     [She  turns  away.] 
Chau.    [With  a  smile,  protestingly.]  Lady ! 

Pri.    [With  dignity.]  Silence ! 

Squire.  [Interceding.]  Dear  lady,  hear  him ;  you  know  not 
what  you  do ! 

[Enter  Heralds.] 

Heralds.  Make  way !  Room  for  King  Richard  !  Way ! 
The  King ! 

[The  Heralds  force  back  all  the  Pilgrims,  except 
those  of  high  degree,  showing,  at  the  great  door  of 
the  cathedral,  a  procession  of  priests  and  choir- 
boys about  to  emerge. 

A  silence  falls  on  the  Pilgrims  as,  within  the  cathe- 
dral, choir-boys  begin  to  chant  a  hymn.  Issuing 
from  the  door,  and  forming  against  one  side  of  the 
massed,  kneeling  Pilgrims,  enters  a  procession, 
headed  by  splendid-vested  priests,  bearing  pic- 
tured banners  of  St.  Thomas  and  his  shrine,  fol- 
lowed by  choir-boys,  and  lastly  by  the  Archbishop 
OF  Canterbury,  with  regalia.] 


58  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

The  Procession.   [Sings.] 

Tu,  per  Thomae  sanguinem 
Quern  pro  te  impendit, 
Fac  nos,  Christe,  scandere 
Quo  Thomas  ascendit. 
[Chants.] 

Gloria  et  honore  coronasti  eum,  Domine, 
Et  constituisti  eum  supra  opera  manuum  tuarum 
Ut    ejus    meritis    et   precibus    a    Gehennae    incondiis 
liberemur. 

[At  the  climax  of  the  chant,  as  the  Archbishop 
appears  in  the  doorway,  the  chimes  of  the 
cathedral  peal  forth  from  high  above  the  kneeling 
crowd;  cheers,  beginning  from  the  right,  swell 
to  a  tumult.  As  the  people  rise,  enter  right 
King  Richard  Second,  in  appearance  a  fop- 
pish lad,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  {John 
Gaunt),  and  followers  of  the  nobility  and  gentry, 
among  whom  is  Johanna. 

The  shouts  of  ^'' God  Save  the  King!"  continue  till 
the  King  and  nobles  take  places  in  front  of  the 
cathedral  \ 

Pilgrims.    God  save  King  Richard  ! 

Rich.  Thanks,  good  gaffers  !    Thanks ! 

Arch,   and   Nobles.    [Saluting  gravely.]     God   save  your 

Majesty ! 
Rich.  God  save  you,  too ! 

[To  the  Archbishop.]    Your  Reverence  is  looking  in  fine 

feather. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  59 

[To  the  Duke  of  Lancaster.]     Ho,  John  of  Gaunt,  my 

pretty  Uncle  Jack, 
I  wish  my  ruffs  were  puckered  Hke  your  brows. 
Dost  thou  pick  faults,  eh  ?  in  my  Paris  gown  ?  — 
Par  charity !    Lend  me  a  looking-glass ! 

[Taking  one  from  a  courtier's  sleeve,  he  peers  into  it, 
makes  an  amused  face  at  himself,  then  holds  it 
out  toward  the  lords  and  ladies,  turning  it  about 
and  thrusting  it  for  them  to  look  into.] 

A  little  glass 

To  flatter  your  faces  : 

Look  in,  your  graces  ! 

And  you,  sweet  ladies. 

Before  it  pass 

Behold  here  what  shade  is 

Your  latest  passion ; 

For  a  little  glass 

May  feature  an  ass 

As  a  lion  of  fashion. 

Look  in,  I  pray  you !  — 

Nay,  alas ! 

You  fear  it  might  betray  you  ?  — 

Poor  little  glass ! 

\With  a  laugh,  he  tosses  it  into  the  crowd,  where  it 
falls  and  breaks  at  the  feet  of  Chaucer,  who 
lifts  it  up,  looks  in  it,  and  addresses  the  King 
with  a  smile.] 

Chau.   To  mirror  me,  your  glass  of  fashion  cracks, 
Your  Majesty ! 


6o  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Rich.   [Starting  with  surprise.]     God's  eyes !     Our  laureate  ! 

Halloa  there,  Chaucer ! 
Jo.  Chaucer ! 

Alis.  Chaucer ! 

Pri.  Chaucer ! 

[Chaucer  bows  to  the  Kmc] 
Squire.   [To  the  Prioress.]    Lady,  I  said  so. 
Rich.    [To  Chaucer.]  Welcome  back  to  court! 

When  April  comes,  there's  not  a  man  in  England 
But  thinks  on  thee  and  love.     While  thou  art  Eng- 
land's, 
And  England  Richard's,  thou  art  Richard's  o^\^l ! 

[As  the  King  embraces  Chaucer,  Alisoun  breaks 
away  from  a  Herald,  who  has  been  restraifiing 
her.] 
Alis.   Hold  up,  your  Majesty !    The  man  is  mine. 
Rich.   What's  this? 
Chau.  My  liege  —  a  blunder. 

[Chaucer  whispers  aside  to  the  Man  of  Law.] 
Rich.  So!    How's  that? 

Alis.   The  man  is  mine  ! 

Man  of  Law.    [Aside,  at  a  sign  from  Chaucer.]     Your 
Majesty,  Dan  Chaucer 
Bids  me  explain  to  you  —  [He  whispers  aside.] 

Chau.  Your  Majesty, 

Lo,  this  is  she,  the  fairy  Alisoun, 
Who  late  hath  wooed  me  at  enchanted  inns 
And  so  enamoured  me,  as  you  have  said, 
With  love  and  April,  that  —  to  speak  it  short  — 
We  are  betrothed. 


THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  6i 

Rich.  Betrothed !    Par  charity ! 

Mil.    [To  a  Herald,  who  restrains  him.]    Leave  go ! 
Rich.    [2^o  the  Man  of  Law,  who  whispers  to  him.] 

A  miller? 
Man  of  Law.    [Aside.]  Him :  that  fellow  there. 

Alis.    [Nudging  Chaucer.J     Speak  on,  sweet  chuck ! 
Chau.  "Betrothed,"  your  Majesty  : 

But  there  your  law  cries  Stay !    Thus  saith  your  law : 
"No  woman  may  be  wedded  but  five  times."  — 
And  so,  because  this  wife  hath  scarce  been  knit 
Five  times  in  wedlock,  therefore,  —  saith  the  law  — 
Our  bosoms  must  be  sundered. 
Mil.    [In  the  crowd.]  God  be  praised ! 

Chau.   Yet  of  your  mercy.  King,  I  now  presume 
To  ask  you  to  outleap  your  laws,  and  grant 
This  woman  —  a  sixth  husband. 
Rich.  By  my  fay,  sir, 

You  ask  too  much.     My  laws  are  sacred. 

[Aside,  to  the  Man  of  Law,  who  whispers  him  again.] 

Hein? 
Alis.   Dig  him  again  there,  Geoffrey ! 
Chau.  King,  have  grace ! 

Rich.    [With  a  furtive  smile.]     Chaucer,  this  Man  of  Law 
advises  me 
There  may  be  one  exception.  —  Hearken,  woman ! 
I  grant  to  thee  the  right  to  wed  once  more 
On  one  condition.     Hark  it:      Thy  sixth  husband 
Must  be  a  miller.  —  Herald,  sound  the  verdict ! 

[As  the  Herald  blares  his  trumpet,  Alisoun  shakes 
her  fist  at  Chaucer,  who  eyes  her  slyly;  then  both 
burst  into  laughter.] 


62  THE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

Herald.   If  any  miller  here  desire  this  woman 
Now  let  him  claim  her. 

Mil.    [Rushing  up.]  Here,  by  Corpus  bones  ! 

Alis.    [Kissing  him.]     Thou  sweet  pig's  eye  !     I  take  thee. 
[Extending  her  hand  to  Chaucer.]     Geoffrey,  quits ! 

Chau.   Quits,  Alisoun ! 

Frlvr.    [Bobbing  up  between  them.]    Et  moi  ? 

Alis.  Et  toi ! 

[She  kisses  him.] 

Mil.    [Grabbing  him.]  Hold,  Friar ! 

That  pays  thee  to  perform  the  ceremony. 

[A  medley  of  sweet  bells  is  heard  from  within  the 
cathedral.] 

Rich.   My  lords  and  Pilgrims, 

The  holy  canopy  is  being  raised  ! 

[The  Pilgrims  crowd  about  Chaucer.] 

Chau.    Give  me  your  hands,  my  friends.     You  hear  the 
bells 
Which  call  us  to  the  holy  martyr's  shrine. 
Give  me  your  hands,  dear  friends ;  and  so,  farewell ! 
You,  gentle  Aubrey  —  bold  Bob  —  testy  Jack  — 
Noble  Sir  Knight  —  sly  Roger  —  slippery  Huberd  — 
All,  all  of  you !     Call  me  your  vintner  still, 
And  I  ^vill  brew  you  such  a  vintage  as 
Not  all  the  saps  that  mount  to  Nature's  sun 
Can  match  in  April  magic.     They  who  drink  it  — • 
Yea,  though  it  be  after  a  thousand  years. 
When  this  our  shrine,  which  like  the  Pleiades 
Now  glitters,  shall  be  bare  and  rased  stone. 
And  this  fresh  pageant  mildewed  history  — 


TEE  CANTERBURY  PILGRIMS  63 

Yet  they  who  drink  the  vintage  I  will  brew 
Shall  wake,  and  see  a  vision  in  their  wine 
Of  merry  England  and  our  pilgrimage ; 
These  very  faces  with  the  blood  in  them, 
Laughter  and  love  and  tang  of  life  in  them, 
These  moving  limbs,  this  rout,  this  majesty ; 
And  there,  regathered  by  the  Muse 
In  timeless  Spring,  we'll  ride  together 
Once  more,  immortal  on  the  April  roads. 
To  Canterbury  —  to  Canterbury  !     [A  deep  hell  sounds.] 
Rich.   My  people  !     St.  Thomas  will  receive  his  pilgrims. 
[The  King,  Lords,  and  People,  forming  in  procession, 
begin  to  move  toward  the  entrance  of  the  cathedral.] 
Chau.   [To  Prioress.]     Madame,  will  you  walk  in  with  me  ? 
Pri.  Monsieur, 

If  you  will  offer  this  at  Thomas'  shrine. 
Chau.   Your  brooch ! 
Pri.  Our  brooch. 

[Shyly ^    Do  you  forget  our  star? 
Chau.  Forget  our  star ! 

Not  while  the  memory  of  beauty  pains 
And  Amor  Vincit  Omnia! 

[The  Heralds  blare  their  trumpets;  the  priests  swing 
their  censers;  the  choir-boys,  slowly  entering  the 
cathedral,  chant  their  hymn  to  St.  Thomas,  in 
which  all  the  Pilgrims  join. 
Just  as  Chaucer  and  the  Prioress  are  about  to 
pass  in  happily  together,  the  curtain  falls.] 

FINIS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 


TBIS  BOOK  IS  BUB  ON  THE  I.^«. 

STAMPED  Se^^^^  date 


LD21-100;;,.7,.40  (69363) 


ML50.D32.C3  1916 


C037528721 

U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CD37S267S1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


■imniiiiiiiHHnHB 


